


in the darkness found a light

by helsinkibaby



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: 1-million-words, F/M, Het, Romance, spoilers for 200, tw: miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 04:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17953367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: Matt Cruz met Jennifer Jareau for the first time in October 2010 in Afghanistan. He never imagined how things would turn out.





	in the darkness found a light

**Author's Note:**

> For February bingo, “free space” 
> 
> This is the most self indulgent fic I will probably ever write and I doubt anyone will read but after the CM finale (seriously WTAF?) I was ranting to my sister and mentioned I’d wanted someone to write a fic like this for years. Her response was a trail of love heart emojis and a string of “DO IT”s. So here it is.

Matt Cruz meets Jennifer Jareau for the first time in a task force base camp in Afghanistan in October 2010. 

He’s expecting her in that Erin Strauss has been telling him about the BAU agent that she’s going to bring on to the task force; not a profiler but the next best thing, she’d said. Actually, she’d said better, with a toss of her head and a set of her lips that spoke to more FBI politics than Matt really wanted to get in to. He has troubles enough without wading into waters that make Afghanistan and the search for Bin Laden look like a walk in the park. 

He’s not expecting her to look so completely out of her depth, both the look on her face, in her eyes, and in particular her clothes. She’s not dressed for the desert in any way, shape or form but Matt knows better than to comment on that. Hastings either doesn’t know or doesn’t care because he remarks on it - because of course he does - and Matt wants to call him out on it, thinks briefly that he should have reamed him out even more before JJ and Strauss pulled up outside. Maybe then he wouldn’t have opened his mouth. 

He wonders later, years later, if that was a sign of things to come, that flash of protectiveness that sears through him. At the time, though, he passes it off because something about the set to JJ’s jaw, the look in her eyes, makes him think she’s perfectly able to stand up for herself. 

But when she turns away sharply, when her long blonde hair moves around her shoulders, when her deeply unsuitable jacket shows off the curves of her body, a sight Matt hasn’t seen for far longer than he cares to think about… well, he notices. 

*

He notices, and he notices a lot more than that but for a whole host of reasons, he knows better than to make it obvious. They’re in a literal war zone, tasked with searching for the number one most wanted terrorist in the world and they are, not to put too fine a point in it, getting nowhere. 

Until JJ helps facilitate a connection between Nadia and - God help them - Hastings. 

“Good work with the doll,” he tells her that night, finding her outside the main ops tent, staring up at the stars. 

She blinks in surprise at the sound of his voice, blinks again when he holds up a steaming mug of coffee to her. She accepts it with a little smile, warm and genuine, that might just be the best thing he’s seen all day and he stops that train of thought before it can go any further. He’s a grown man, after all, not some love struck school boy. “It wasn’t a big deal,” she demurs. “She’s been holding on to it like a talisman since she’s been here. It obviously means a lot to her.” 

“Which when you say it, makes perfect sense. We still needed you to point it out.” 

It might just be the chill of the desert night but he fancies her cheeks are a little more pink than usual. “All those years working with profilers, I guess I picked up a thing or two.” 

Matt frowns. One brush off could be false modesty, fishing for compliments. Two speaks to something else. Besides, one of the things he’s learned about JJ in the last month is that she’s a straight shooter, calls things like she sees them. “Or maybe you’re just that good, you ever think of that?” She ducks her head into her coffee cup, not so quickly that he doesn’t see her smile widen. “You ever think of taking the classes to qualify?” 

“Sometimes.” The word is so quiet he can hardly hear it. “I’ve been asked before.” She lifts her head and stares out across the compound and Matt knows that while her body is with him, her mind and her memories are half a world away. “But I always said I liked the job I was doing.” 

There’s something in her voice that makes him take a chance. “And now?” 

She laughs but it doesn’t sound amused. “Now? I’ve only been here a month and I can’t imagine going back to the way things were.” She doesn’t sound like she’s happy about it. 

“This place changes you,” he says and he’s not just talking about geography. He knows he’s not the same man who came over here a year ago; he’s damn sure not the same grunt who first planted boots in Iraq all those years ago. “Sometimes for the worst.” He’s thinking of Hastings and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There’s something he can’t put his finger on, something about the man he doesn’t like, can’t trust. “Sometimes for the better. Depends on the person.” 

JJ tilts her head, narrows her eyes as she looks him up and down. “How has it changed you?” she asks and Matt laughs because she’s not even being a little bit subtle. 

“Oh no, you want to be a profiler, you can practice on someone who’s not me,” he tells her but he keeps enough amusement in his voice that she can tell he’s not annoyed with her. “It’s not like there’s not plenty of people around here to hone your skills on.” 

JJ laughs at that too, nods her head in agreement, or possibly acknowledgment. “Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she says. “I just keep thinking of my friend, Spencer… he’s one of the profilers on my old team, he’s this complete genius, IQ so far off the scale you can’t even imagine… he’d have a field day out here.” 

The spike of jealousy that rears up in Matt’s throat is as sudden as it is surprising. It’s easy enough to dampen down though, because he recognises instantly that JJ doesn’t sound like she’s talking about a lover. He’s instead reminded of how his ex used to talk about her favourite younger brother, something about the fond tone of her voice, the soft smile that curves her lips. 

He’s so busy admiring that smile that it’s a shock when she shakes herself, glances at him and the smile turns smaller, tighter. “I should turn in,” she says. Then, almost as an afterthought, “Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Any time,” he replies. 

It’s a fairly standard response, one that’s almost reached platitude level. 

But he means it. 

*

That’s the first night it happens but it’s not the last and fairly soon it’s a regular occurrence. Which Matt knows is not wise, not least because he recognises pretty quickly that the more time he spends with JJ, the more time he wants to spend with her. He thinks he keeps that well hidden from her, from the rest of the task force too, although he notices Hastings watching them carefully, all flinty gaze and closed lips. Every time it happens, a shiver goes up his spine and he knows, on a bone deep level, not to trust the CIA man. 

But it’s easy to forget that when he’s talking to JJ. 

It’s easy to forget everything when he’s talking to JJ, including, apparently, himself. 

It happens on Thanksgiving night, when they’re sharing a laugh over the frankly terrible turkey meal that they’ve just been served. Matt has never been more nostalgic for his mom’s table, groaning with enough food to not only feed the family for a day but the neighbourhood for a week and he waxes lyrical to JJ all about it. “Stop,” she laughs. “You’re making me hungry.” 

Matt can only agree. “That was the worst Thanksgiving meal I’ve ever had, that’s all I know.” Her smile fades slightly and he tilts his head. “What, you’ve had worse?” 

“Once.” Her smile is sad and she looks across the compound, plays absently with her necklace. “My mom… there was one year she didn’t really want to do Thanksgiving. So my dad and I decided we’d take over the cooking.” She pauses, continues with a self deprecating laugh, “Let’s just say we came pretty close to having to fit out a whole new kitchen. And we learned that grilled cheese sandwiches make a pretty good Thanksgiving dinner if you’re desperate.” 

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask why her mom didn’t want to cook Thanksgiving dinner that year and from the wary look she gives him, she knows it too. It’s obviously a question she doesn’t want to answer so he just shrugs, jerks his head back in the direction of the camp. “Shame you didn’t tell the chef that today,” he quips and this time her laugh is a genuine one. 

“It couldn’t have been much worse,” she agrees. “Unless they went around making us say what we’re thankful for.” 

“Hard to be thankful over here,” he allows. “Unless they’ve flown in some of Ma’s cooking.”

JJ turns a questioning gaze on him, wary again. “You probably won’t get back this side of the New Year, will you?” 

Matt shakes his head, knowing that, as part of her cover, she gets to fly back Stateside a little more often than that. Hastings has made a number of snide comments about it, hence JJ’s wary look towards Matt just now. Not that he’s going to say anything about it. As far as he’s concerned, anyone who gets out of this hellhole for a couple of days is damn lucky. “Unlikely,” he says. “But it’s not like I have anyone waiting for me at home, so.” He shrugs and then, without thinking about it, steps over the line. “What about you?” 

She blinks, which is what makes it register that he probably shouldn’t have asked that. “Me?” 

He holds his hands up, palms towards her, shoulder high. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s ok.” Her cheeks are a little pink. “No, no-one waiting for me either.” He does his best to keep back his surprise at that - seriously, are all the men in DC blind? “My last long term relationship was with a police detective who lived in New Orleans… we did the long distance thing for nearly three years, as much as we could with my work and his work… then he wanted to get married and I… didn’t.” That last was said with a tiny laugh and a shrug. “We limped along for a while after that, I think he thought I’d change my mind, but…” 

Her voice trails off and she bites her lip, as if she’s afraid she’s shared too much. “I hear you,” he says. “I was deployed for more than half of my marriage.” Her head whips around and he knows he’s surprised her. “Nearly ten years,” he says, glancing down at his left hand, holding it out in front of him and flexing the fingers. Years later, he still fancies he can feel the ring there. “Probably wouldn’t have made it past two if we’d spent more time together.”

JJ wrinkles her nose. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah.” He drains the last of his coffee, now nearly cold. “I keep up with how she’s doing, mostly because my sister is one of her best friends. She’s remarried now, to an accountant. Safe job, home for dinner each night… she’s happy. And I’m happy for her. Sonya’s a good woman. We just weren’t meant for each other.” 

“Not many people talk like that about their ex.” 

JJ sounds almost impressed and he shrugs as he stands. “Life’s too short.” 

“Yeah.” She doesn’t make any moves to follow him inside, stays where she is, staring into space, fingers still playing with her necklace. 

He leaves her to her thoughts but in his dreams that night, there’s once more a ring on his finger. And in those dreams, as she plays with her necklace, he catches the hint of a matching flash of gold on hers. 

*

He knows that the reason insurgents decide to attack the camp is nothing to do with their decision to launch a rescue mission for Nadia’s daughter. That op hasn’t even reached the planning stages yet; it’s just an unfortunate coincidence. Far more like a reason is that it’s close to Christmas, a lot of their men have relocated home for the holidays and the insurgents are taking their chances where they think they can get them. 

When the first explosion happens, Matt grabs his firearm and wades into the battle and he’s shocked when he sees, in the kind of slow motion usually reserved for battle zones and nightmares, JJ crouched low, creeping along one of the buildings, heading towards the sound of gunfire. 

He hisses her name - she shouldn’t be out here and he wants to tell her to get to safety. Her blonde ponytail swishes as she whips her head around, her eyes narrow like she’s about to rake him fore and aft for giving away her position. Then her eyes go wide and the next thing he knows, she’s on her feet, in a perfect firing stance in one smooth motion and she’s pulling the trigger. 

He’s shocked but as time returns to normal, he realises that the bullets she fired weren’t meant for him because when he turns around, there’s an insurgent lying six feet behind him, gun still grasped in his hand. Matt allows himself a second - literally - to acknowledge what’s just happened and by the time he does, JJ is beside him. “You’re welcome,” she tells him, dropping back down into a crouch and jerking her head towards the gunfire, an indication that she’ll follow his lead. 

Later, once all the insurgents are captured and he’s got enough paperwork to do to keep him tied up until next Christmas, he doesn’t find JJ at their usual coffee spot.

Which is understandable. She shot and killed a man today after all. She’s been questioned and checked out by medics and had second and third glances following her around, she’s going to want some time alone. Matt should respect that. 

Instead, he goes to her quarters, knocks on the door. 

He tells himself he’s doing it to check that she’s ok. To let her know that he’s there if she wants to talk. To thank her for saving his damn life. 

But when she opens the door to him, when her eyes lock on his and her pupils dilate and her lips open in a soft gasp that’s not surprised at all, he knows he’s lying to himself. 

She steps back to let him in and he steps past her, watches her as she carefully closes and locks the door behind him. She turns as if in slow motion, her eyes meeting his and what he sees in them has him reaching for her without a word. She meets him halfway, winding her arms around his neck, her mouth open against his in a kiss that’s hungry and fierce, totally at odds with everything he’s ever imagined and he’s imagined this moment plenty. He’s kissing her back the same way though, fingers of one hand tangling in her long, loose hair while the other splays on her lower back pressing them closely together. 

Their first time, they don’t make it to the bed. 

The second time they do, but only because he picks her up and carries her there, covering her body with his own and proceeding to thoroughly explore it. He takes her apart several times, greedily cataloging every reaction, every whisper and sigh and scream that falls from her lips, just in case this never happens again. 

Later, he expects to gather up his clothes, leave as quietly as he came. Instead, he lies in her bed, her head pillowed on his chest, his arm around her shoulders. “You saved my life today,” he hears himself say and she giggles into his shoulder. 

“Hell of a way to say thank you,” she quips but he doesn’t find it funny. 

“You killed a man,” he points out. He leaves it at that, doesn’t point out that it’s different for him. He has army training, army experience. He’s fought in wars, in battles. JJ hasn’t. 

So her quiet, “You're acting like this is the first time,” floors him completely. His surprise must be written all over his face because she continues, “There was a serial killer… my friend, Penelope… he thought she was on to him. So he pretended to be a nice guy… took her out on a date… and shot her, right there on her apartment steps. She survived, barely, and he came to the BAU offices to try to finish the job.” Her eyes are fixed on the far wall but Matt knows she’s further away than that. “I shot him… through a glass wall, right between the eyes.” 

She’s so lost in her memories that she doesn’t see the realisation play across Matt’s face. Because he’s heard that story before, remembers standing in the BAU offices and judging the distance involved, thinking that whoever the agent was who fired her weapon was a hell of a shot. He’d never heard her name though, certainly never connected it to the woman who was lying in his arms. “Quite the dead eye you’ve got,” he says softly and he’s not sure if it’s the words he says or the way his fingers are tracing up her spine that brings her back to him, makes her smile up at him. 

“It was ruled a clean shot,” she tells him, because of course it was. “And Hotch made sure I talked about it, attended all the mandated therapy sessions…” Her tone is dry, almost amused. “I must say, though…” She runs a hand up his chest, then dips her head to place a kiss on his sternum. “I much prefer your debriefings…”

It takes a second. Then, when the penny drops, Matt’s jaw drops along with it. “Oh, you’re good. Very smooth.” Her grin turns wicked and she moves easily, sinuously, so that she’s straddling him, the sheet falling from her body and exposing her to his gaze. 

They don’t talk for a long time after that. 

*

They continue “not talking” all through December and January, keeping up with both their regular coffee meetings - already well noted by all, it would look suspicious to stop now - and with him coming to her quarters each night. 

Things only change in February, on what is the worst day that Matt can remember since he started on this godforsaken task force. 

Things are tense when they gather in Ops to follow the mission to extract Nadia’s daughter. They’re all on high alert, tempers fraying because these missions are never easy, rarely straightforward, always fraught with danger. 

It’s bad enough when they hear gunfire. 

When they see the explosion, it’s exponentially worse. 

And straight away, Matt knows that JJ will take all the responsibility for this onto her own shoulders, and so she does. It was her idea, she insists, recover the girl, get Nadia to talk. It doesn’t matter that the mission had be to greenlit by Matt, by Strauss, by a half dozen other figures higher up the food chain. 

She blames herself, insists on going with him and Hastings to tell Nadia that her daughter is almost surely dead. 

Finding Nadia dead is something none of them were expecting. 

When Matt follows JJ out, she’s doubled over, emptying the contents of her stomach on the ground. 

Matt’s a combat veteran but he’s not that far away from joining her. 

She doesn’t hang around for long and much as he wants to go after her, he can’t. There is an investigation to begin, a crime scene to oversee, brass to report to, both on the failed recovery mission and the aftermath at camp. So it’s late when he knocks on her door and he wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she didn’t open it to him, wanting to be alone after a day like today. 

But open it she does. 

As on so many nights, her hair is loose but tonight it bears the hallmarks of her running her hands through it many times. Her eyes are dry, but rimmed in her, dark shadows underneath them standing out on her pale face. She steps back to let him in, closes the door and locks it and when she turns to face him, she stands with her back to it, hands behind her, gasping the handle. He knows without looking that her knuckles are white. 

“Matt,” she says, “I can’t tonight, ok? I just…”

She breaks off when his jaw drops, the enormity of her words falling on him like the proverbial tonne of bricks. “You think that’s the only reason I’m here?” He doesn’t know whether to be pissed off or insulted. Maybe he’s a little of both. He sounds it too and she flinches like he’s struck her. With great effort, he modulates his tone. “I wanted to check up on you.” 

She swallows hard, wraps her arms around herself. “I’m ok,” she says and he wonders how she worked around profilers if she’s such a crappy liar. 

“You’re not ok,” he counters. “How could you be? Jennifer-”

It was, he realises later, the use of her full name that breaks her, the tone and usage one that’s usually reserved for when they’re lying her in bed, her head on his chest. It wrenches a sob from her chest, tears from her eyes and before he knows it, he is holding her tightly, her hands going around his waist and making fists in his jacket. He rests one hand on her back, lets one move through her hair and he murmurs words she can’t hear that he can’t remember later and he lets her cry until there are no tears left. 

When she is finished, she lifts her face to his and he wipes her cheeks, cups her face in his hands and leans down to kiss her softly. “This is not your fault,” he whispers. There’s obviously a leak somewhere, and they’ll have to investigate that, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. “You did everything right.” 

She presses her lips together as she nods. Sucking in a shuddering breath, she leans into him, lays her head on his shoulder. Her hands play with the zippers on his jacket before slipping underneath so that they are against his chest. “I know what I said.” Her voice is so quiet that he can barely hear it. “But will you stay?”

Usually, he doesn’t. Usually, he slips out either before she falls asleep or when they’ve both had a couple of hours shuteye. 

Tonight he doesn’t think twice. 

Tucking a finger under her chin, he tilts her face up to his, brings his lips to hers gently, almost chastely. “I’ll stay as long as you want,” he promises. 

As long as she wants turns into all night and the same thing happens the next night, and the next, and every night after that. They’re an open secret around the camp but no one mentions it to either one of them and, on her rare visits, no one mentions it to Strauss either. And if Matt finds himself idly speculating on what might happen when they get out of here, when they’re back in the States, if he begins to dream about lazy Sunday mornings in bed together, her eyes glinting over a candlelight dinner, her smile bestowed upon him any time of the day or night, then he keeps those thoughts to himself. 

Until the day one of the lower ranked Ops technicians comes to him and tells him that JJ is in the medical tent and that he’s needed there. His first thought is that there’s been an accident of some kind and he hustles there as best he can without attracting attention. When he gets there, JJ doesn’t look hurt, is sitting on one of the beds, looking faintly dazed. Her expression actually reminds him of the night they found Nadia, her face pale, eyes rimmed in red and as they meet his, he sees a thin film of tears start to appear. He says her name - or at least he tries to. What comes out is more of a strangled whisper. He takes a step towards her, holds out a hand but she shakes her head, rising from the bed and taking a step away from him. 

“I’m pregnant,” she tells him, her voice thick with the tears she’s battling against and Matt feels as if a gallon of ice water has just been dumped down his back. His mouth opens then closes again as he searches for the right words, and JJ must take that as something that it’s not because she shakes her head as the first tear falls. “I swear to God, if you ask me if it’s yours…” 

Her voice breaks then and she turns away from him, but not before he sees the pain behind the tears in her eyes, not before he sees the way her hand covers her lips to keep back a sob. Between that and the idea that she could think that about him, he’s moving before he can even think about it, pulling her around and into his arms. 

He thinks she might resist but she doesn’t, sinks into him like she has on so many nights before now, wraps her arms around his waist and buries her head in his shoulder. She trembles against him as he splays one hand across her back, rests the other on the crown of her head. He doesn’t speak, partly because he can’t find the words, partly because no words could help now anyway. 

Eventually, her body stills and she lifts her head to look at him. He shifts slightly, moves his hands so they are cupping her cheeks. His thumbs sweep across the tracks of her tears as he promises her, “I am right here. With you. For whatever you need. You got that?” 

Another sob escapes her. “I don’t know-”

“You don’t have to know. Not yet. But I’m here. OK?” 

She holds his gaze for a long moment. Then she nods. “OK.” 

He thinks she might say something else but then there’s a noise from outside and they spring apart. She just has enough time to wipe her eye before Hastings enters saying something about a message from the States about someone called Emily. It takes a second to register but then JJ is moving faster than he’s ever seen her move and she doesn’t stop until she’s commandeered a jet and she’s on her way back to America. 

He tries not to miss her, but he fails. 

Tries not to think about her cradling their baby in her arms, but he fails at that too. 

And if one day he finds himself imagining a little girl running towards him, dark hair pulled back in pigtails, JJ’s wide smile on her lips, well, he’ll never admit it. 

Not that there’s much of that smile on JJ’s face when she arrives back. No, there’s a tense frown instead, a wary glint to her eyes as she stands in the middle of him, Hastings and Askari and tells them they have permission to mount a convoy for off site interrogation. 

“An inside guy makes sense,” he tells her when he finds her alone, not long before they ship out. “Do you really think it’s me?” 

Because if she can think that about him after all they’ve done together, while his baby is growing inside her, then he thinks she never really knew him at all. He doesn’t like that thought, prides himself on being able to read people, prides himself on his honour, of the way he deals with people. Not that he cares what people think of him, necessarily - hell, in the army, his subordinates had written several interesting comments about his parentage on latrine walls - but he cares about JJ and he’s only just realising how much. 

So when her shoulders slump and she looks down, it’s actually a relief. “No,” she says quietly. “I don’t. But what I think doesn’t matter.” 

Except it does, and when she lifts her head to look in his eyes, they both know it. 

There’s a moment of silence where they stay like that, looking into each other’s eyes. Then she speaks again. “I was thinking. When I was away.” Her hands are joined in front of her, her knuckles white as she wrings them. “And the… baby…” She drops her voice as if she’s afraid someone will overhear her. She doesn’t drop her head though, keeps her eyes level with his. “I’m keeping it.” She’s almost defiant, like she’s expecting him to argue with her. Not that he would; he just can’t speak at the moment because it feels like his heart is about to jump right out of his throat. Which is ridiculous, a man of his age struck dumb like a high school kid, but apparently that’s what happens when you’re faced with something you didn’t even know you wanted. JJ doesn’t know that though, continues, “I just want you to know, I’m not expecting anything from you, you don’t have to-”

She’s probably not expecting the way he moves towards her either, the way he takes her face in his hands and kisses her, pouring every word he can’t say into the embrace. Her mouth opens under his with a sound that’s almost like a sob and then her hands are clutching his jacket so tightly that he’s almost afraid she’s going to rip it. 

He’s not afraid enough to push her away. 

He only does that when there’s a noise outside the tent and even then he steals another moment, rests his forehead against hers. “We’ll talk about this later,” he tells her. “But I just want you to know… I’m all in with this. Whatever that means.” 

He’s always thought, on the rare occasions he gets to see it, that JJ has a knockout smile. Turns out that he didn’t know the half of it because the one she bestows on him now - a little teary, a little hopeful, a lot happy - is the best thing he’s ever seen, especially in this hell hole of a place. He steps back but his hand finds hers, squeezes her fingers tightly and she squeezes back. “We’ll talk later,” he tells her and she nods, still looking faintly dazed, but mostly happy. 

But neither of them are happy when they do get to talk. 

Because Askari is a traitor, Hastings is dead, and he’s not the only one. Matt’s ears are still ringing from the Humvee explosion, the ache in his bones from the impact nothing to the ache in his heart when he has to give JJ the worst news he’s ever had to deliver in his lifetime. He can’t even get the words out but she knows just from the look on his face and her low moan, Matt knows, is going to haunt his nightmares for a very long time. Her hand goes to her stomach, his covers it and if the base medic didn’t know the whole story before, he probably does now. Matt’s grateful when he hears him step towards the entrance of the tent, hears the hiss of a zipper as the medic gives them some privacy. 

It’s not much but as he holds a sobbing JJ, his tears falling on top of her head, he’ll take what he can get. 

*

It’s amazing to Matt how quickly things can fall apart. 

Because that’s exactly what happens after the attack on the convoy. Professionally, with Askari knowing their entire playbook, the task force is disbanded quickly and quietly, it both being too dangerous for them to remain there and, probably, utterly pointless. 

Personally, he feels JJ withdrawing from him a little bit at a time, her eyes losing their sparkle, her cheeks becoming a little pinched and drawn every time he looks at her. He damns Askari to hell with every breath in his body because it’s easier than blaming himself for that look in her eyes. He should have known better than to get involved with her, and he had, but he’d crossed that line anyway and now she was the one paying the price. 

They see one another when they get back to the States, but only in the context of debriefings and when their paths cross in the special hearings that the general public will never know about. He learns that she’s decided to take the classes to become a profiler and he’s not the least bit surprised that she tops them, walks into a profiler spot on her old team where she fits right in as if she was never away. 

She doesn’t tell him that, though, and it’s not enough through him keeping a distant eye on JJ that he finds out. 

Oh no, his source of JJ intel is far more surprising. 

“You don’t have to keep me up to date with how she’s doing,” he tells Erin Strauss over lunch one day and in return he gets a look that’s almost pitying. 

“Matt,” she says, talking to him like he’s an idiot. “You’re not the only person who’s ever gotten involved with someone they shouldn’t have.” 

She says it in a way that makes him insanely curious and, conversely, makes him sure that that’s a particular box he doesn’t want to open. 

He doesn’t have to though. Because at Erin’s funeral, he doesn’t need to be a profiler to see how JJ and her team are keeping an extra close eye on David Rossi. 

He doesn’t talk to her at the funeral, or at the reception afterwards, although their eyes do meet, cliché style, across the crowded room. He’s a grown man but he still feels a tug somewhere around his heart, as unmistakable as it is painful and he wants nothing more than to go to her, even if only to exchange small talk, just to hear his name on her lips. 

But he doesn’t. For once, he knows better and he does better.

So he doesn’t talk to her until a few weeks later, the same morning that he walks into the Hoover Building and is ordered to report to BAU Headquarters as their new Section Chief. It’s a promotion he never put in for, never wanted but he’s not in the business of refusing orders so he goes and pretends not to notice the look on her eyes as he’s introduced to the rest of her team. He makes a point of mentioning them all by name, makes it sound like he’s heard about them from Erin, from studying their jackets in his new office the second he got in this morning, instead of smiling anecdotes from JJ over coffee or over pillow talk a half a world away. 

She lingers as they make their way out. “You could have told me,” she says and he knows she’s right, even if he also knows she’s wrong. 

“I didn’t have time,” he tells her and while it’s the truth, they both know he could have made time. 

She presses her lips together, turns on her heel and walks away. 

After the case is wrapped up, she’s even more blunt. “Did you take this job because of me?” she demands and he shakes his head. 

“I found out about it when I walked into work,” he tells her, “the same way you did.” 

JJ frowns. “But you must have applied-”

Matt shakes his head. “This is your turf, Jennifer. You know I’d never do anything to compromise that.” 

Her frown deepens and she tightens her arms around her middle, pulling the coat in her arms closer like a child with a teddy bear. “Why would someone do that?” 

Matt doesn’t take it as a slam on his abilities. Her thoughts are going in the same direction his are, unfinished business with Integrity. “I don’t know. But your guess is as good as mine. Maybe better.” 

That’s said with a shrug, in an attempt to make her smile. “After all this time? It’s been three years.” 

“I know.” He glances across her at her, sees his concerns mirrored in her face. “That’s what worries me.” 

*

It turns out, as he discovers when he’s kidnapped and beaten and suspended from his wrists in an abandoned building, that he hadn’t worried enough. He knows things are bad when he sees Tivon Askari’s cold eyes staring back at him, because he’s seen what Askari is capable of and that’s when the FBI shackles had been on him. 

But when he’s dragged into a different room, when he looks over and sees JJ there too, eyes and hair wild, things enter a different realm. 

Matt’s been trained to resist interrogation, to handle torture. 

On himself. 

But watching someone else go through that? Watching someone you care about be water boarded, be electrocuted, watching the tears run down her face? 

It’s so much worse than anyone could ever be trained for. 

When they drag him away, her screams echo in his ears, even after they send a shot perilously close to his head. He should be deafened by the gunshot, by the reverberations, but no. He hears her screams until they turn to whimpers and he knows what she’s thinking. 

That he’s dead because of her. Just like Nadia and her daughter. 

When she gives up her codes, he’s almost relieved because at least they won’t hurt her anymore. And if it means they turn their attention on to him, well, better him than her. 

Then Askari starts to use her as a threat. “Talk,” he orders. “Or she’ll lose more than a baby this time.” 

When the words leave his lips, Matt knows that something is off. He just can’t put his finger on why. JJ is quicker though, works it out straight away. “Come out you coward,” she spits and, like a ghost, Michael Hastings walks into the room. 

Which is when things get even worse because he’s a sadistic son of a bitch who makes a point of pressing on Matt’s Achilles heel. He slowly unbuttons JJ’s shirt, runs his hands down her stomach and back up. Matt lunges against his restraints but they hold firm and JJ looks over at him. “Matt, I’m fine,” she tells him but just like all the other times he’s heard those words from her, he knows she’s lying. “I’m fine,” she says again as Hastings’s fingers undo the fastening of her pants. 

“I’ll do it.” 

He’s not surprised when, once the codes are entered, Hastings stabs him. The main thing is, he’s bought JJ if not safety, then time. 

Then he hears gunshots, voices, and Aaron Hotchner is leaning over him, his mouth forming words that Matt’s brain can’t translate into sound but that doesn’t matter. 

JJ will be safe, the BAU won’t let anything happen to her. 

With that thought, the world goes black. 

*

When he opens his eyes again, he’s lying in an ambulance and from the lack of pain he’s feeling, to say nothing of the woozy, faintly drunk feeling, the paramedics have given him some of the good stuff. He closes his eyes, full intending to enjoy it but then the ambulance dips and he hears a quiet “Matt.” 

Opening his eyes, he sees JJ, blanket wrapped around her. Her face is pale, her eyes are red and as she looks down at him, her chin wobbles a little more. “Hey,” he says, all he’s capable of saying and the edges of her lips wobble into what might be a smile. 

“Hey.” She swallows then. “Matt, what you did…”

“I had your back.” He finds his voice then because it’s important that she knows that. “Always did.” 

It’s hard to tell but he thinks he can see tears on her lashes. “I know,” she whispers. “Thank you.” 

He smiles, opens his mouth, words he’s never said on the tip of his tongue. “Jennifer…” he begins but she interrupts him, shakes her head. 

“Get some rest,” she says and he nods, feeling blackness approaching him once more. 

*

The next couple of days are a blur of medication and doctors and beeping machines and the first day he can think clearly is the same day he opens his eyes and is convinced he’s dreaming. JJ is sitting pretzeled in the chair beside his bed, knees drawn up to her chin, arms looped loosely around them. Her eyes are bright and alert, trained right on him and she gives him the tiniest of smiles. “Hey,” she says. 

“Hey.” She doesn’t move, neither does he. “That can’t be comfortable.” 

JJ actually chuckles. “Compared to where I was a couple days ago? This is a breeze.” 

The fact that she can say it so matter of factly surprises him. “How are you?” 

She shrugs, unfolds herself from the chair. “I’m ok.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Really. I have a little while off work… mandated therapy sessions…” She rolls her eyes but there’s a few of those in his future too. “And I can’t laugh at anything too much for the next little while… but I’m ok.” She’s standing beside his bed now and, after obvious consideration, she drops down to sit on the edge, her body angled towards him. “How are you?” 

“The same,” he tells her, then looks up at the IV bag beside him. “Except with really good drugs.” He tilts his head. “They told me you went after Hastings.” She ducks her head and he takes that as confirmation. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“So I’ve been told.” Her lips twist. “I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly. But after what he did…” She swallows hard and then slowly, almost in slow motion, her hand reaches out and closes over his. “I thought he’d killed you.” She’s silent for a moment, throat working furiously. “And if it wasn’t for him…” 

He knows instantly what she’s thinking. “We’d have a two year old running circles around us, wrapping me around her little finger.” 

JJ’s eyes go wide, her brows rising towards her hairline. “You think it was a girl?” 

Matt feels his cheeks grow warm, wonders if he can blame the drugs for his words. When he decides he can, he continues. “Always did. You didn’t?” 

JJ narrows her eyes. “I always pictured a boy… I was such a tomboy growing up, I’m not sure I’d know what to do with a girl.” 

“That and you just wanted a little boy with my handsome good looks.” OK, he decides he’ll definitely blame that on the drugs but it makes JJ grin so it can’t be all bad. 

“Well, of course.” She sounds like she’s humouring him. He can live with that. 

Carefully, slowly, he turns his hand over in hers so that he can lace their fingers together. He gets a sudden flash of them back in Afghanistan, lying quietly together in her bed, but even then, he’d never held her hand like this. “I’m sorry we never got to meet her.” His throat is tight, while JJ’s eyes are wet again. “She would have been spectacular.” 

JJ’s knuckles are white against his skin and she doesn’t speak, just nods. After a long moment where his fingers itch to reach out to touch her cheek and only the thought that he’d never get away with blaming the drugs for it stops him from acting on the impulse, she sucks in a shuddering breath. He’s expecting her to make her excuses, expecting her to stand up and leave, run away from him, never to be seen again. Instead, the index finger of her free hand begins to trace a pattern over his knuckles. “When I thought you were dead… I mean, I wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time… but I remember thinking that we never talked. After we got home. Not about what happened between us. And I really…” Her voice catches. “I think we missed that conversation. And everything that could have happened after.” 

Matt’s heart does something strange in his chest and it takes him a second longer than it should to recognise hope taking root. “Yeah?” He smiles as he says it but doesn’t other elaborate. It seems to be the safest thing to do, and the wisest too because JJ’s lips turn up in a smile that’s almost shy, almost embarrassed. 

“So I was thinking… when you get out of here, in between therapy sessions and physiotherapy sessions… maybe we could, I don’t know, get dinner? Have that talk?” 

He doesn’t have to think about his answer. “I’d like nothing more.” 

*

His recovery is slow, his return to work even more so. The wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly, particularly when one has handed over their top secret log in details to terrorists, no matter the reasons. There are fires aplenty to be put out and Matt’s glad he’s the BAU Section Chief - no matter what Erin Strauss may have put about, and she put about plenty, they’re a fairly well oiled machine. In fact, Matt’s pretty sure Erin put those stories about on purpose, just so it looked like her job was actually harder than it was. 

The agents are actually surprised to see him when he walks into the bullpen for the first time since his kidnapping, each of them looking at him and waiting for his response when Hotch asks how he is. And because they’re hiding what they are from a room full of profilers, he makes sure to ask JJ, “How are those ribs?” 

“It still hurts when I laugh,” she replies, like he doesn’t know that already. “You?” 

With a shrug he quips, “The scars impress the ladies.” JJ’s eyes go wide and there are snickers from her teammates but then he turns to Garcia and presents the case they’ve been called in to deal with. 

It’s a long case, a tough one professionally and personally so he doesn’t get to think about his quip until it’s all finished. “So,” JJ asks him as they lie this time in his bed, her fingers tracing a pattern around the jagged scar left by Hastings’s knife, “exactly how many ladies are you impressing with this scar?” 

There’s a teasing note to her voice that he’s heard before, even in Afghanistan, but more and more often in the last few weeks. He likes it. “Only one,” he says honestly and her mouth opens in a little “ah” of acceptance. His hand moves along her naked back, softly at first, then more deliberately. “How’m I doing?” 

She lifts her head, at first giving him a thoughtful expression. Then her grin turns wicked and she moves easily, sinuously, so that she’s straddling him, the sheet falling from her body and exposing her to his gaze. “Not bad,” she decides as his hands move to her hips, fingers flexing before skimming up her sides. “But I think there’s a little room for improvement…” 

“Well then, maybe I should work on that.”

She’s already leaning down to kiss him when she responds, “Maybe you should,” and that’s the last word on the matter for quite a while. 

Which is ok with Matt. 

In fact, he wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
